Life With Brian
by MollyMittens
Summary: What happens when the one thing you have dreamed of turns out to be a nightmare? Read on to get into the minds of two lovers as they discover what passion is all about.
1. No Ice Cream

It's funny how life turns out. You spend your days thinking one thing, and...as soon as said thing happens, you don't think it anymore. It's like your whole perception of the thing, or, in my case, "Ice Cream," is changed and suddenly it's not as desirable as you thought. What gets me most is how UNDESIRABLE my ice cream turned out to be. He came donned with all his sprinkles and I didn't fancy a lick.

I'm wearing a pink shoulder-less dress. My hair is down, and for once in my life I'm not wearing the pink bow that's usually hidden under my gray knotted cap. All I can think about is how white the table cloth is. It's thick with a little seam design at the end that cuffs it. If you look close enough you can see a small flower pattern embedded into it. I can't stop fingering the fabric and I don't know why. This is the night I have waited for, prayed for, and plotted for. I should be happy. I should be glee-full. I should have those cliche butterflies in my stomach. Instead I feel...nothing. Kind of board actually.

"Do you like your salad Helga?" Arnold asks, running his hand down his silk green tie, stalks of hair slicked back. "You don't seem to be eating." His face bunches into a frown, brow tilting up in concern.

"No, it's fine." I say, taking a bite. And it is. The dressing is light, fruity, and just the type you'd expect at Chez Paris. Arnold rubs the back of his neck, sighing in relief.

"Oh, good." The way his forehead sweats makes my stomach turn. Is he really THAT nervous? Criminy, football head. We're having dinner, not getting married. I smile, my cheeks hurting from the amount of force I have to use. Off in the distance I can see a thin-tux clad waiter setting down an order of scotch neat from a silver platter. His white gloved hands seem so fuzzy, like huge batches of fur on twigs.

"Helga?"

"Hm?"

"You seem a bit distracted. Is everything ok?"

"Huh? Oh, Yes Arnold. Heh, everything is great. So...how are things with Gerald? Do you seem him much since you started college?"

"Not really, but then again we go to different schools...so it's kida hard. Plus, he likes to talk to Phoebe whenever he can since she's all the way in New York at Columbia. How about you? Have you made any friends in college?"

"Some. But I find the teachers to be more fun then the students."

The bus boy comes and clears our veggie course, the waiter following with our steaks. We eat, chat, ask each other the usual "Do you like your food?" all the while I feel absolutely empty, my heart totally cut off from everything else. Arnold steals touches, finding ways to accidentally hold my hand, or nudging his feet near mine, blushing blood red each time. He stumbles with his words too, always taking these really long pauses when he wants to ask me something probing. Like,

"So...um...how um...is your sister? I heard she's some sort of actress now, right? Or did I hear that wrong?" I coerce my head to still so I don't roll my eyes. What is going ON here? Is asking about my sister so perverse that he has to grope his way through it? I raise my hand.

"Yo, guy in penguin suit! Can we get a drink over here?"

"But Helga, we're only 19! They can't serve us!"

"Like they ever check." Our tuxedoed clone comes by, Arnold grinning like he's about do something utterly wrong and want to I stand on the table and scream, scream at how stupid this all is. What is WRONG with me? What is WRONG with us? When Arnold brushed his hands on mine, I thought I'd swoon inside. But I just pulled my hands away, his clammy palms getting to me.

"Yea, I'll have Tattoo Rum, neat. Arnold?"

"Oh? Me? Oh...um...well...I..well..hows about..um..I guess...whats the one that taste like coconut?'

"That's the Pina Coletta, sir. Excellent choice." The tux nods and dashes off, and I can't help but think about the last time I was here. I remember how my heart fluttered at the chance to be close to him, how my body BEGGED to inch my chair near. The way my arm hairs nearly jumped when he sat next to me, my soul almost leaping form the shear joy I felt!

All I wanted was for my sweet Arnold to see my softer side, to let him know that I'm not always the bully. And now...he IS seeing all that. And it's not as grand as I thought. Or maybe...I thinking too much about this? This IS the first time I AM seeing him without a guise. I'm not in a play, I'm not Cecile. I'm just me, and maybe...just maybe..deep down that scares me. Or worse...maybe I never truly loved him at all.

"I'm glad I finally asked you out Helga."

"Really?"

"Yes! In fact, well..." Hair boy rubs his neck again, biting his already raw lip. "See..ok. Do you remember the poetry contest? Not the one in grade school, I'm talking about the one we had Senior year.."

"You mean the one that got me my scholarship?"

"Uhuh...I mean..well..see.." he stutters awkwardly, "I...ok. See, when you came up and read yours...I kinda...well..." The waiter delivers our drinks and I secretly want to marry him for the slight intermission he created. I look up at the penguin, eyes doing their best to show how grateful I really am. I inhale a huge gulp of rum, tonguing the spices that pass along my taste buds. The Tattoo calms me instantly and I'm ready to hear Arnold stagger through the longest story told since the bible.

"This is sweet! I think I actually kind of like this! Wow.."

"Yep, Pina Coletta's are sweet."

"So, as I was saying...I...I don't know...I mean...when you went up there read yours...I was kinda surprised. All this time you called me geek-bait, shrimp...football-head...I guess I always assumed you were mean all over. I mean, ok...don't hate me here..but...see..." He pauses, thankfully sipping his drink, "I assumed you had some sort of soft side because everyone does...and you did confess your feelings on top of FTi...but I never saw it until you read your poem and...I guess..I thought..well...I wanted to see more of it. That poem really showed me that I really didn't know you at all, Helga. All these years of being in school with you and I didn't know the real Helga G. Pataki! What does the G stand for anyway! I want to know!"

"Geraldine."

"See! I never knew that before! It's quite nice."

"Thanks..."

"My middle name is Philip. After my grandfather."

"Oh, I see. Good choice." The night carries on. We sip, eat, talk...the same inane and useless chatter that excites Arnold, and puts me to sleep. He prods me, awkwardly feeling his way through the questions. Thankfully though, his words smooth out midway through our second round and he seems less nervous. And yet...I'm still board. I'm still feeling nothing when my life long crush continues to talk to me, continues to find ways to feel me, get close to me, and touch my skin with eager fondles.

"Excuse me Arnold, I...have to use the ladies room. I'll a...be right back." I sport a courteous smile and walk of. Not really needing the bathroom I just stand by the doors, looking through the mirror that's opposite them. For a second my eyes blur and I can see the gilded frame and I have to hold on to the half-moon table that sits underneath it so I don't fall. I gaze at myself, my Iris's blending together with the black middles so all I can see are gaping holes, devoid of any twinkle.

"Oh Arnold!" I gush, "How I longed to be by your side! How I dreamed to have your hands hold mine! How I tried on many a dress for this night! Even going as far as to ask Olga which one suited me best! And Yet...And yet...the tingles are not there. The connection I SWORE we'd have is absent, totally gone the second I came in... and I...and I..." A harsh wheeze breaks through my impromptu poem, and I don't even have to turn around to know who it is.

"Criminy Brainy! How the HELL do you do that!" I groan, turning to face my soliloquy side-kick as I rummage through my purse for my smokes. I fumble with my lighter a bit, frustrated by the teasing sparks that can't ignite the one highlight of this evening. I'm about to smash it on the floor in tears when, out of nowhere, Brainy hands me a flame.

"Oh, give me that!" I try with his, my thumb failing to work it, arm shaking madly. Before I can punch him, Brainy gingerly grabs my thumb, slowly using his shockingly silken fingers to guide it down the spur-like wheel. It inflames instantly, my Marlboro 100 basking in the righteous heat.

"Don't think you're getting off easy because of that Bucko!" I want to say, but can't. Instead, I just stand there, eying over a slick Brainy as he daftly tosses his gold Zippo into his mahogany suit pocket. He moves forward some, the ray from the ceiling lamp showing off his bright blue bow-tie and the shiny rims of his classes.

"Night not going well?" Brainy wheezes out. I nod.

"Oh my poor Helga why must you torture yourself? You cannot fake what does not exist."

"Huh?" I puff out, unsure if it's the booze, or his words that confuse me. His hand reaches for my cheek and I know I should bat it away, but something tells me not to. Something I can't explain petrifies my body and soon Brainy makes contact. He slides his amazingly comfortable grabber down, pausing at the side of my chin.

"You cannot live on Ice Cream alone, fasting quicker then those who dine on hope." He moves behind me, hand still attached. "To tether thy being to a dream, has turned horrid so it seems." My cigarette smoke swirls to meet him, my jaw hanging low.

"What? I..."

"Come...if only to spare these four eyes a moment of your time." His palm glides to mine, bowing in the direction of the wall between the restroom doors and mirror. I would stand back, but Brainy is already walking to the wall, tapping on the upper most right-hand corner.

"Mot de passe ?" a scratchy voice says, the sound of it close by. At quick glance I see no one, wondering were the source is.

"J'ai un agneau froid nécessitant des laines" His perfect French throws me, but I have no chance to react, the back wall opening up to reveal the most luminescent room of my life. There are crystal chandeliers everywhere, candles in sparkling glass holders on every table, and a larger then large stage with a glitter speckled curtain. Lights line the stairs that fan out before us like a tilted stack of pancakes.

"But...how..." I let out, barley able to, "I don't want to keep Arnold waiting..."

"Like you've been? Don't you think it's time you finally saw what life is all about?" He trots me down the stars, leading us through the thicket of tables until we reach what seems to be ours in front of a leather booth. He lets me slide in first, Brainy following on my right side. A waiter pops next to him, giving a slight smile, the tux's pearly whites indicating something I don't understand. Brian raises his brow twice, and with that the waiter walks off.

"OK, I gotta..what? How..." I look down, realizing that my cig has gone out. I hot box it a few times, hoping there is still something left in the stick. Suddenly a fresh one is offered, and I take it, this time allowing Brainy to lite me.

A sequined singer walks to the microphone on stage, her red lips opening slowly as she belts out a French tune. I sit, dragging in the sweet flavor of the cig, trying to comprehend the scene around me. Waiters dot the tables, mixing with them as they carry trays of drinks, nib-lets of food, and unfathomable amounts of deserts. Everyone seems dressed like Brainy and me, classy, yet not too much, not one recognizable face in the lot.

"How does Brainy know about this room?" I wonder to myself. How does this room EVEN exists? How can no one else of Hillwood know about this secret, a knock away from this almost stereotypical French restaurant?

"Helga," Brainy wheezes again, "I have watched you my whole life. Every time you belted out your true feelings I was there, awaiting your five fingered love tap. Each tap was harder then the last, but I came back for more. Because I knew that if a punch was ALL I was getting for hearing your soul then I was getting off easy. Now, I am not saying you should choose me over Arnold. No. I'm saying you don't HAVE to chose."

"Choose what?" Our waiter brings by a bottle of champagne and two glasses, filling them up. Brainy sips his then raises it. I do the same, not sure why I am. We clink.

"Don't you see Helga! All your life you have pined for him, waited for him, and spent countless nights getting on paper your exact feelings for him. Why? Because he was the first person to notice you. No, the first MALE to notice you. And because of that you have funneled all your family hate into loving him... to help ignore the fact that your father doesn't love you. And now, on the grand night he's finally living up to your writings, your unhappy."

"Yea," I sigh, blowing a smoke ring, "vary..and I wish I knew why..."

"Because..." he leans in close to me, elbows on the table, "You have nothing left to pine for. And now it's down to chemistry."

"Chemistry?" I repeat, half slurring from the champagne. What the hell dose THAT mean? What does ANY of this mean? How can...what can...this is not making any sense! How did I go from being on a date with Arnold to being on date with Brainy on the same night? Is this a dream? This MUST be a dream. It HAS to be a dream.

I hold my head, looking at Brainy as a migraine sets in. He's about to say something, his small lips beginning to move when he stops himself, waiting. He wheezes, sounding more like a muffled chainsaw then his usual snore. He gets close again, his hand rubbing my arm, touch oddly calming the jackhammer in my head.

"I'll get you back to Arnold now," he says, gingerly moving me out of the booth. We pass by patrons, waft through waiters, and crawl through the crowds, my view of the room getting drowned by the light, enveloped by white. We are one step away from the door when he tugs my wrist.

"Don't base your life on love, Helga. Let love base its life around you." And then...Brainy pulls me back to him, craftily twirling me so my lips meet his, body aflame with tingles the moment we kiss. Logic tells me to shove him off, yet something deeper tells me to go forward, to allow my former punching bag to take hold of me, caress me, and awaken parts of me that have been dormant for ten... solid... years.

The essences of champagne swims around my mouth, waves of carbonated wine cresting with our tongues. Drunk on passion, my hands roam round his skinny bod, finally reaching his goose-down soft hair. I can't help but get excited, the vibrations coursing through me intensely with each passing second, and just when I'm about to quake, Brainy stops.

"Holy...Hell..."

"Just a taste, " he wheezes with a smile. He takes my wrist again to steady my shaking body and I almost go for anther kiss when starts walking me out near the restrooms, pausing by the mirror. He fixates me in front of him, my back facing the average restaurant.

"Good night, my sweet poetess," Brainy bows, "Have a pleasant evening." He turns, the wall reopening as he strolls back in, whistling to a tune I don't know.


	2. A Brainy Proposal

It's cold outside. The kind of cold that gets into your clothes despite the thousands of layers you have on. He's holding my gloved hand as we stroll down the Hillwood block, my shoes clacking on the concrete as the sound fills up the dark street ahead. I can see my breath and almost laugh at how much it looks like I'm smoking even when I'm not. Brainy, or should I say, Brian, pulls me closer, letting his trench coat lightly brush off the still falling flakes that waft around us.

"So...why so quite my Poetess?" He asks, pausing to face me.

"Oh, nothing," I lie. If someone had told me that an impromptu date in the classiest back room of Chez Paris would lead to this, roaming the city after seeing Madam Butterfly at the Civic Opera to celebrate our 1-year anniversary, I might have laughed. But when I cuddled up to my four-eyed lover in the most expensive seats in the house, I knew the joke was on me. Because I'm in love, and I could not be happier. Well...mostly happier. When the curtains closed to standing ovations I could not help but feel something lingering in the pit of my stomach, the operatic message ringing deep within me eons after the last note.

"Nothing?"

"Yes, nothing."

"Helga," he wheezes sweetly, pushing a blond curl behind my ear, "With you, it's never nothing. So tell me, what has caused my seamstress of words to put down her needle?" He smiles, his cheeks winding up his eyes to a brilliant glow, glasses shining. I look at his spiky hair, relishing how it bunches together in rows, yet still posses a wildness I could never get enough of.

"It's nothing, really!" Brian chuckles knowingly, softly stroking my cheeks with his silky leather gloves. I can't help but get turned on by the feel, really thankful that I can use this titillating distraction to ignore what's actually going on. Full of passion I go in for a kiss, my crimson lips begging to envelope him, drink him, and suck in the most decadent nectar I have ever tasted.

And yet...right as I'm about to make contact, he stops me.  
>"No. You're not going to use sex like that."<br>"Like what! I was just going to kiss you!"  
>"To avoid talking."<br>"I was not! Can't I kiss you on our 1-year anniversary without getting the third degree?" Brian shrugs his shoulders, brow raising up as his smiles fades. The way he dips his head slightly to the side completes a look that usually says more to me then his words ever could:  
>` Your punches hurt less then your distance.<p>

I right his head, gazing into his diabetically sweet eyes, trying so hard not to cry. Even though I knew why, something told me not to say, fearing the emotions I was bound to spout.

"Oh Helga..." Brian dries my face with his thumbs, making it even harder to compose myself. I could feel the moment coming, that uncontrollable sensation where all my thoughts come gushing out of my mouth faster then Niagara Falls.  
>"No. I don't want to talk about it!"<br>"But-"  
>"Can you just..." I spin away from him, my hair fanning past his chest. I hate this. I hate how the simple touch of him makes me yearn to the spill the contains of my heart, to empty every chamber so there is nothing but a hollow shell of a organ, totally lifted and free. Can't I have a thought to myself, can't I have a time in my life when I didn't say anything, and didn't need to? I go the fence of the park before me, resting my numb limbs of the silver painted chain-link.<p>

My mouth tingles as more tears drown it, and before I can stop myself, the thing that makes me distinctly Helga pushes through.

"I had a great time with you tonight. I really did. The dinner was lovely, Madam Butterfly was beautifully tragic...and yet...I'm scared. Scared that the immense love that I feel for you will go away. If a simple date with Arnold can destroy my feelings for him, then what would do the same for you? For us? I mean...B.F. Pinkerton swore he'd love Cio-Cio San forever only to come back with a slender WASP and divorce papers," I sniffle, a weep creeping through me as the winter air bitters my face with its evaporation.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, and I just..I never..." My Brian comes up from behind me, spreading his tender arms around my midsection. He rests his head on my back, his beige spikes lightly tingling at my neck. At first I thought he'd start talking like he always does. Instead he stays there, letting his waist hug comfort me. He moves his hands to clasp me better, pecking the back of my neck.

"My darling Helga. To Arnold you were just a slip of paper, but to me you are my wining lottery ticket, printed with all the numbers to show your billion dollar worth. And if you think I'm going to let my riches get away so easily, then baby, you've got a lot to learn about me." I can feel him smiling, but that doesn't make it any better. Nor do his words. Words that used to settle me in more ways then one.

"You say that now, but how can we be so sure we'll feel the same away in a year? I mean, suppose we both wake up one day and realize that everything is gone? What then?" He chuckles again, his lovable laughter tumbling through me. I don't understand it, here I am talking about our possible and most likely probable end and Brian's just laughing it away. Suddenly his hands grab mind and twirls me to face him, his glass encased peepers glinting with something I can't begin to get.

"Sounds to me like we need Romance Insurance."

"Romance Insurance?" I raise my uni-brow.

"Yep. Just a little something to protect ourselves from ever falling out of love."

"And how do we do that?"

"We make a pledge-NO- a vow! Yes...I rather like the sound of that. A vow." He rubs his chin with his fingers a little as he rolls his eyes upward, mulling over his newly minted idea. "Yes, the words seem to fit, don't you think? A vow...to..ya know..have each other, hold each other...wouldn't matter if we're rich or poor...sick or healthy...only that we loved each other, cherished each other...and ya know...I'm thinking..." he lets go of my hands and he reaches into his coat pocket, digging for something, an "Ah!" shooting out his mouth the moment he finds it. I try to take a look at whatever it is, but the darkness his stature creates makes it hard. "If this whole vow thing is going to work, we'd better set a time limit on it. Say...dil' death to us part?"

And then, to my complete shock he opens up the something, revealing it to be much more then that. He takes it, gingerly slipping off my left glove before slipping the... diamond... ring... on. It glistens like the snowflakes around us, mirroring their fall perfectly through it's crystal clear color.

"Hows that for a little Romantic Insurance." I look at him, then at the ring, the white gold band catching my eyes and in that second I realize there is not enough air in the world to catch my breath with...heart stilling.

"You want to...I mean you got me a...you..." my mouth hangs open a little, leaving Brain to kiss it lightly before holding my chin with his hand. He pecks me again, heart warming up enough to resume beating.

"So what do ya say? Will you, Helga Geraldine Pataki, writer of poems! Singer of sonnets! And keeper of my heart (among other things)," he adds with brow bounce, "Do the honer of insuring me, Brian Bartlett Williams, that as long we're alive we'll be together?" He grabs my hands again and brings them up his chest, beaming. I don't know what say. Here, right on my ring finger, and in front of me, was exactly what I needed, was exactly what I wanted. And until five seconds ago I didn't realize how MUCH I wanted it.

"Oh Brian" I breathe, almost as wheezy as my lover from my backed up tears, "I do, YES, I do!" And then I kiss him, my tongue sampling the most delicious happy ending to a date I've ever had.


	3. Insecure

He's on my couch. That FUCKING-FOOTBALL-HEADED-BASTARD is on my couch, snoring away his drunkenness while I stand over . It would be easy to assume I'm happy. Hell, if I read this scene in some book I'd be cheering me on, silently telling myself that this how it has to end. That THIS-THIS! is how it should be.

And if it WERE in some book there would be details to support me, details that would justify my giddy laughter as the golden boy's last breath drew to a close, eyes popping out of his sporty head as my pillow fluffs him dead.

Helga said it was just a kiss. One simple little peck as he drunkenly sobbed on about his grandparents passing. They were in some bar. He was trying to steady himself when he slipped, his lips just so happening to fall on my PREGNANT wife. Really Shortman? That's the line you're going with? THAT'S the trite you force my dear sweet Helga to say?

My knuckles go white as I think about it, holding my pillow over him, glasses steaming up from anger. I can feel the urge to push it down engulf me, the deep desire to press out every living inch of him baking in my veins.

"It would only take five minutes," I smile to myself, "Five small minutes to free the world from his therapeutic all think he's some angel but I know the truth! I know that within the dark fathoms of your mind lives a darker trickery. You snake into her life with your tattered clothes and your pathetic story, all the while knowing she can't resist helping you. Can't resist... " My hands shake, wheezing getting unsteady as the pillow slowly lowers down to his face. Yes...OH YES...just a few more moments and you won't be my problem anymore! And then Helga can finally be mine! All MINE!

She says she never loved you, but I saw her eyes. I saw the look MY Helga gave when she explained that you had to spend the night...that pitiful, poor boy eyes that can't help but tell me how much you want 're carrying our child! Our LOVE is physically growing inside you and you choose to help HIM! HIM!

My pillow gets closer, face burning hot as I imagine Arnold's scrawny excuse for a body scrambling for air. Yes, I chuckle, you can't save yourself now football head. Just let it happen, I smile, just let the air quickly seep out of yourself..YES..YES...won't take much now. One more second and...there! His hands begin their fruitless struggle, waving around like the limbs of a dead bug as the last particle of oxygen righteously smashes out of his body, rushing away to my cackles that surround it. HA! You thought you had her, didn't you ZEN BOY!

My smile nearly splits my skin in half, my own breath growing shorter by the second, waiting for his futile movements to end...

"Brian?" I pause. My head darts to the small line of light coming from our bedroom, my Helga standing with one hand on her belly, the other on her back. Arnold's arms begin to gain some force and before I know it the pillow is on the floor, hair-boy's fist hitting a cheek that Helga's used to grace. HARD. I fall back, breathe busting out of my lungs as my spine hits the hardwood. Arnold gasps as he shoots off the bed, labouring heavily for air when he spots me.

"Jesus FUCK my back!"

"What...happened..."

**"You punched me!"  
>"W...What?" I dart my eyes to Helga who's still, unsure of what to do. Her light pink nightgown bellows in the light gusts I can now feel from our room, her hair playing about in the wind. In that second I watch her, I can't help but wonder who she'll run to when her senses wake up: me, or that little fucker that's still pumping blood.<br>"Brian what is going on here!" My mouth hangs open as I clamor for the right words, tongue failing me. All I wanted was his death. All I wanted was to have him go away and leave me to my wife, but I can't have that can't I? I can't continue to be brilliant to her when the man she used to gush about is lying harmed right in front of her. I almost try again, thinking that if I could just snuff him out quick enough my dear sweet Helga won't notice.**

Right. Helga not notice? It would have to be damn quick. I gather myself, looking at my sweet ones eyes in the hopes that she'll believe I was doing no harm. But WHAT WAS I doing? What can I say that I-YES! I was just getting him a pillow. YES! That's right. I was getting our dear old friend and extra pillow for his head.  
>"I..." my mouth continues to hang, waiting for Helga to sniff it all out. She always does. It's like her body has an extra sense of things, knowing what no one but pregnant women and police dogs can. She comes closer and for a second my heart stops as she makes her sloth-like approach. Come on, get it over with. You KNOW you're going to choose him. You ALWAYS HAVE chosen him. My perpetually broken nose could have told you that. And to think...I almost made you happy.<p>

"I was just...I heard something and I thought...PILLOW."

"Pillow?"

"Er-yes. I thought he might need another pillow. For his head. Something about the elevation is supposed to hasten the hangover recovery. Or something I-" Arnold gets up and for a second I can almost see them embrace, my once elated heart fading in the dark night sky. But then, just as Helga gets close enough she picks BOTH of us up by our hands.

"Just when I was about to hit REM sleep and THIS happens. Criminy..."

"I'm really sorry Helga," Arnold pleads as he rubs the back of his neck. "I must have been dreaming and got confused. Happens when I drink too much. Guess I should've stopped at two beers..." He sighs sadly like he's let her down. Oh really hair-boy? Is THAT how you're going to play it? That I-failed-but-totally-know-now-it's wrong routine? Do you REALLY think she'll fall for it! OH of course she will. Because he's perfect and I'm just the husband who can't even control myself. Sigh...

It took one single night to win her, and now...looking at my bruised cheek in the bathroom light that Helga's flicked on, I'm starting to see how little it might take to lose her. All because I couldn't bare to stand next to our generations Jesus.

"Look-I REALLY AM sorry guys. I never ment-"

"Will you SHUT UP AND BE STILL? I can't get a good look." Helga stands back, groaning some as she inspects us-hand on her chin. "Fuck Arnold," she starts again, "For a drunk guy you really hit well."

"I know-I'm really-"

"YES! You're SORRY! We get it!"

"Brian!"

"WELL!"

"Well what? The mans sorry alright?"

"Do you SEE what he did!"

"Oh, like you suddenly care about that now? Never did when we were kids."

"Thats because it was YOU after a private poetry session. I would have done ANYTHING to hear that. Even if it meant going home EVERY DAY with a broken face. And I would have gladly took more because I knew-deep inside-that you were not the monster you saw yourself as. You were just a girl begging to be loved. Well here I am Helga. I LOVE you and you...YOU have the audacity to come come with HIM!"

"I AM still here you know."  
>"SHUT-UP FOOTBALL-HEAD" We both shout. He stands back some, stiffening at our mutual rage.<p>

"Brian, it was JUST a stupid fucking kiss. He was drunk, he was sloppy, and he was STUPID. Criminy! If you really loved me you would have realized that!" She glares at me, her baby blues burning into the back of my soul. I want to say something but her eyes drain all of my diction, leaving me with little else to say.

"I know.." I finally sigh, "And I do. Darling..." I take her hand in mine and match her stare for stare as I guide our hands to her belly.

"Well... that's my cue to leave...I...uh...guess..." Arnold slinks out of the bathroom but we're too entranced to care. It wasn't until the harsh close of the door did I truly realize how different this night could have ended. If Helga hadn't interrupted me then Arnold would've-NO! I shake the thought out of my head as I gingerly walk my wife to bed.

"L-lets get some rest shall we?" I shake out, "It's late." Helga yawns in agreement and, as we both slip under the welcoming covers, it dawns on me how close I came to pure murder.


	4. Guilt

_Dear Journal,_

_It's been three days since the attempt and I can't clear it from my mind. It flashes back to me at odd hours of the night-me a crazed loon looming over with a thick pillow and him-a sappy excuse for a man struggling helplessly for air. What's worse is that I can't tell anyone about this. Phoebe is too close to Arnold and Helga...ah...helga. My sweet angel. What trickery had begotten you to marry such a murderous fool? I don't deserve such a woman. A saint doomed to live with a man who can barely live with himself. Sigh..._

_When I saw you that night at Chez Paris I could not wait to talk to you, to let you know that the world could be yours no matter who you chose. But now...in the depths of night I'm left with the guilt of trying to make that choice for you with a Target pillow. But this is mine alone to bear and maybe-someday soon, like the birth of our first born, I can let go of this burden and finally be weightless in your arms again._

_Yours,_

_Brian._

"Is this good?" I ask tentatively.

"Oh yes!" She breathes. My hands run around her, touching, tapping and tickling her good spots while I thrust. She moans deeply with each push like she wants more, yet I'm holding back, struggle to break free of my thoughts. I try to let go, desperately waiting for my body to take control and do what she loves best. But I can't- too enveloped with the swirling thoughts that won't go away. Would Arnold do it this way? Or would he would be gentler? Would he be on top or insist on the bottom? Did he REALLY mean it when he said his kiss was a mistake? Or is that something he said, wishing he got more? My blood boils with each floating question and no matter how much I want to please Helga I just can't. Before I can try to continue my member shrinks away and I'm forced to withdraw.

"I'm sorry. I can't!"

"WHY? I was so close!"

"I don't know!" I lie, rolling over to pick up my tattered copy of Othello.

"You don't know? Since when don't you know?" She scoffs. She tears the play from my hands and looks at me, her ice blue eyes demanding to know what I don't dare explain. Oh Helga...can't you see? I almost KILLED a man to keep you. I almost took a life to make sure you'd be in mine forever. I don't deserve to share the same bed with you, let alone pleasure you. Don't you see that if something isn't done soon I'm bound to commit murder?

"Look Darling," I say soothingly, doing my best to ease myself "It's-it's-it's just this work thing. We've got this new program about to launch and it has to be perfect. In fact...why don't I go work on it now! I'd really feel better...I promise I won't be long!" I fake a smile and get dressed, wondering we're I'll hide today, hating that I'd have to. But what else can I do?

She turns over and for a second I think she's going to yell at me to come back. Instead she just hugs the covers and sobs lightly, breaking my heart one chamber at a time as I leave for "work," for the third day in a row.


	5. Breathe

"Hello you've reached Phoebe Johanssens's cell phone. Please leave your name and number and I will get back to you shortly. Recording!" Crap. I can't even get my best friend on the line? I would call Olga but she's probably too busy with Eric the yoga instructor. Ug. Last time they visited they tried to teach me toilet yoga to make things "Move better for the baby." Like I need to know that! I laugh a little, really glad something made me forget the utter rejection from my husband. And the growing abdominal pains that've been perking up since he left.

Ok...so my sister's fun to laugh at. And...maybe they helped a little. Brian has been more limber during sex. When he's not turning away from me that is. Criminy...why did I ever agree to meet Arnold in that stupid bar! What was I thinking! In a fit of anguish I throw the phone on the floor and half expect it to explode, almost shouting at it when it lands scratch free. Criminy. I can't even trash things now. What else can't I do?

The doorbell rings. Dabbing my eyes I try to blanket myself so they don't see me, hoping they'll go away soon-like NOW. But they don't, knocking and ringing in a constant ear pounding rhythm that's forcing me off the only thing in my life that hasn't rejected me.

"Hi..." I answer softly.

"Helga are you ok?" Arnold asks with concerned eyes, "You look awful!" I try to throw a retort back but I just cry instead, crumbling in front of a man who's not Brian. I hate that he's seeing me so down, I hate that he's here, and I HATE-HATE that when he opened the door to hug me, I let him...getting exactly what I needed from someone other than my husband.

"Oh Helga I'm so sorry I caused this..." Arnold says as he continues to embrace me on the couch. "I should have never kissed you."

"Oh it's not your fault," I sob.

"Yes, Helga, it is. You said it yourself, I was a sloppy stupid drunk that took advantage of you. It was wrong and it shouldn't of happened." I dab my eyes and try to breathe, doing my best to collect myself when we break away. A small twinge of something fades away near my stomach. Arnold moves to his side of the couch yet still looks upset for me, his brow curled in empathy.

"I know I caused this but there must be SOMETHING I can do? What can I do?"

"I don't know," I cry again, "Brian's been so distant that it makes me think it's more than just that stupid fucking kiss..."

"Oh Helga NO!" Arnold moves in again and starts caressing my arms, pulling me deeper and deeper into something that's too spontaneous to name. No matter how hard I try to get off my body melts closer, my vulnerability taking over so fast that I barely have time to think. Hands fly around us and just when I'm about to experience the second most earth shattering kiss of my life my belly erupts in pain.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!"

"WHAT! Did you?"

"SHUTUP!" My breathing hastens as I freeze, hoping whatever this is goes away quick. It ripples and expands around the whole of my abdomen, nearly crushing it to nothing as I grip the couch to steady myself. Arnold backs away and watches me, the newly trained doctor in him taking over. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stops.

"Criminy..." I sigh.

"Helga, I think you just had your first contraction."

"Really? What was your first clue? Could it be the PAIN!" I yell. Arnold chuckles some and takes a seat on the armchair.

"Ok, I know you want to yell at me right now, and you can. But I need you to keep calm. If this is the first contraction you've-" Another one hits me fast and soon I'm gripping the puffs of the couch again as I huff it out, suddenly VERY scared that it's been less then thirty seconds. Arnold huffs in tandem with me, doing his best to keep his distance while still trying to sooth me. The contraction seems to last for hours and I am covered in sweat when it ends.

"Where are your towels?" Arnold asks hurriedly. I point to the bathroom and he grabs one, heavily soaking it before he rushes it to me. I dab my face, neck, and chest, hoping football head doesn't get any ideas. Thankfully he just stands there and waits with me, eyes on his watch.

"Shouldn't you be calling 9-1-1!"

"There may be no time Helga. If you have another contract-" Right on cue my belly explodes into action as gushes of water ruin my couch.

"AAA!" Before I can ask, Arnold grabs the phone and dials Brian unemotionally,careful to keep his white coated cool. I can hear my husband scream on the other end and I try to snatch the phone to talk, but Arnold annoyingly motions for me to continue breathing with his hands.

"He's on the way!"

"OH GOD! OH GOD! FUCKING FUCK!" My belly amps it up and then slowly lets me go, taking it's time to ease off the vag splitting smarts.

"You really have to breathe Helga."

"I AM breathing!"  
>"I know, but not enough. Getting oxygen is super important right now. Are you feeling ok?"<p>

"I'm scared Arnold," I break down, "I mean...we...and then..."

"It's ok. Don't worry about that. Brian is coming home and we'll get through this, Ok? Do you trust me that we'll get through this?" I nod nervously, wondering if I CAN get through this, let alone SURVIVE this.

"Good. Now I want you to try and lie on your side. This will make it easier for the baby to come out. Can you do that?" I turn slowly, fearing that I'm bound to contract again before my husband has the chance to come home.

"Are you sure we don't have time to call 9-1-1?" I fluster.

"No, your contractions are too close. At the rate they're going the ambulance will never make it in time. That's why I want you to REALLY breathe for me Helga. The more relaxed you are the less it hurts." I nod again, getting panicked that my Brian is not home yet. Why isn't he here? His office is only ten minutes away and it's been twenty-at least. Criminy! AM I that horrible a wife that he has to take years to get home? COME ON!

"OH FUCK!" For the next several moments my belly contracts, each one so much worse than the last that I'm getting scared something is wrong. Something MUST be wrong. Why is he not here yet? Why did I let Arnold inside our house? What possessed me to believe he wouldn't try to kiss me again? And then, at the height of torture I hear my husbands heavy wheezing approach me and I am FINALLY relaxed enough to breathe.


	6. The Birth

I rush in my house and nearly faint at the sight. My darling is sweating it out on our couch with that fucking football standing by like a yapping dog you can't get rid of. Part of me wants to run to her, the other-larger part-wants me to slug his fucking face off so I can be alone with Helga. But the second I get close Arnold commands me to his car.

"I don't know WHO the HELL you are but you will not-" He grabs me by the arm, nearly yanking it off when he turns me away.

"Listen," he says flatly, "You hate me. That's understandable. But right now, YOU are about to become a father. And the ONLY WAY you can do that is if you grab my medical bag so I can do my job and DELIVER YOUR BABY." I close my eyes and sigh. Father... In all of this I forgot that I'd become a model of manhood. A man my child wants to be, or be with. I hate to admit it but that sap is right.

"Packard?" He nods and I'm off and back almost too rapidly to notice. Helga's still laboring hard-her pale skin worrying me to no end. I'm about to mention it when I decide not, unsure what Arnold might say. Instead I staple myself to her side and try not to faint from fear.

"Darling!"

"Brian! Thank GOD I thought..." she pauses to breathe and I offer her my hand. Helga claps it like a jumper cable and in no time it's as white as her face. I'm amazed and how she pushes through despite how scared she obviously is, breath ragged with fatigue. Come on..you can do it darling!

"Won't be long now parents!" Arnold states, "Just let me check your progress to be sure." I cringe when he lifts her pink dress-ready to vomit at the sight of his cold rubber gloves poking places only Helga or I should touch. Yet she takes it all in stride and I have to kiss her efforts-lips pressing deeply on hers before a bellow of pain cuts in.

"BRIAN! MAKE IT STOP! OH GOD!"

"DO SOMETHING!" I shout. Arnold shoots up from Helga's lower half and dabs himself a little with a wet nap.

"Ok Helga you're one-hundred percent effaced with ten centimeters dilated which means YOU are ready to push. When you feel it I want you to go with it. Can you do that?" She shakes her head yes and braces herself-tightening her grip on me.

"Brian..." I try to smile through my evident panic, inching closer to kiss her again when she starts pushing-HARD. My darlings face glows red with labor and I'm shocked that Arnold hasn't lost his cool once. Through it all-the screams, the tears, and the now horrific amounts of blood Dr. Shortman just goes with the flow better then my physician-totally fixated at her birth canal.

"You're doing it darling-you're doing it!" I cheer, eyes locking on my wife as she keeps at it-hand surely broken from the squeezing. Helga brings so much strength with each push that I have to note how frail the male form is. What man could take THIS much pain and not die? Who, other than my angelic wife, could endure something so injuring without-

"I see the head! Keep pushing!" I want to add something but can't my mouth suddenly dry in anticipation. The room quiets down and soon all we hear is Helga, Arnold and I too concentrated for sound. The air pauses around us as the time nears and I swear my heart is going to leap right out of my chest. I feel it beating up against my ribs with each passing second that I wish someone could say something and...just when it becomes too still our daughter's first cry breaks the silence.

"Oh...My...God..." I gasp. She's tiny-pink-and a stunning replica of my beloved Helga complete with a thin monobrow. Arnold swaddlers her in a blanket and I suddenly realize how nothing else matters, the kiss, the pillow, and the drama. Everything up to this second simply can't compare to the sight of my daughter.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper when Arnold hands Helga our girl, "I love you so much!" I kiss her madly and she kisses back letting me know with her relaxed pressure how much she accepts my apology. We part and gaze at our baby-awash in happiness.


	7. Epilogue

Helga is sleeping peacefully while I'm sitting nervously in a chair next to her. The lights are dim but the hospitals impossibly white walls make up for it. I hear a knock on the doorway and spot Arnold, my chest palpitating slightly at the news he'll bring. He silently waves me out and I follow.

"So?" I wheeze.

"Everyone checked out fine. In fact, Helga and the baby can go home as soon as she wakes up." I let out a huge sigh, right hand on my relaxing heart.

"Oh thank god. I thought...well I knew that...You really did well Old Man." Arnold beans.

"Ah, just doing my job." I chuckle at the thought.

"Please, my job consists of lines on unending code. You deliver new life. That's not a job. That's a miracle."

"You could say a new program is like a new life. It's put out into the world, it's enjoyed..."

"I guess..."I shrug. Arnold gently pulls me aside so we face the nursery and I spot our girl resting, in total awe that my darling wife could birth something so precious.

"I hope you know how incredibly lucky you are to have her Brian," Arnold says solemnly with notes of defeat. I don't know which "her" he means, but it doesn't matter. He's right.

"Believe me Old Man," I tear, "You have no idea how much I know..." And with that Arnold leaves me to stare at the second girl to ever take my wheeze away.


End file.
